


Snack Thief

by edensgarden



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Crack, F/M, Gen, Reader is the manager, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26065111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edensgarden/pseuds/edensgarden
Summary: You catch Murasakibara sneaking snacks into practice and decide to teach him a lesson.
Relationships: Murasakibara Atsushi/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 75





	Snack Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Murasakibara is one of those characters that I saw for 0.0001 seconds and was already fully infatuated with. There's just something about giant people, who are rather quiet and gap moe that makes my heart flutter faster.

“Murasakibara-kun.”

“...”

“ _Murasakibara-kun._ ”

“...”

The discomfort on his face grows the closer you edge towards him, now on your tiptoes as you search for any signs of guilt. A feeling he very easily covers with the scowl he’s wearing. You continue to stand in front of him, tapping your finger against your crossed arm with a raised brow.

“Is this really okay?” One of the first years whispers from behind you.

“Woah… Murasakibara-san looks really scary like that... “ Another one murmurs.

“Only Himuro-san and (Surname)-san can get up close and personal with him like that. I’d be terrified of getting crushed by him.”

“Silence!” You bellow, uncrossing your arms to rest them on your hips. The three first years cower behind you, strings of apologies falling from their lips. Turning back to the towering boy in front of you, you command, “I won’t have you laze around while everyone else is working hard. Out with them.”

Murasakibara doesn’t move from his spot, only gives you a mean look. When you realize that this isn’t working, you decide to try another approach. You don’t take much joy from it, but sometimes, a manager has got to do what a manager has got to do.

You shrug your shoulders and switch to a carefree tone, “I guess you don’t want to join us for cake later on then?”

The glint that races through his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you pretend not to see the slight jostle of his shoulders and only turn around, getting ready to leave him behind. Just as he’s about to open his mouth in protest, you add, slyly, “After all, only good boys get to eat cake.”

A second full of suspense passes.

And then another.

And then… another.

“Fine.” He mumbles back.

You stop. A triumphant grin overtakes your features and you’re in front of him in an instant. You open the plastic bag in your hands and hold it out to him, waiting patiently for him to begin. With a lot of effort, as if you asked him to move the world with his bare fingers, he pulls out a few candies from his pockets and drops them in the bag.

When nothing else follows, you raise an unimpressed brow and shake the bag expectantly. You know there’s no way this is all he’s carrying with him. He grumbles some more under his breath, reaches into his pocket once more and produces several umaibo sticks.

At this point, the bag is half full. You don’t even know how his pockets have enough space to carry this many sticks, but when you don't see the hopeless expression you envisioned, you know that something isn’t right.

“I said _all_ of them, Murasakibara-kun.”

Behind you, Himuro is snickering into his palm, whereas the other members of the basketball club watch with disbelieving eyes as Murasakibara begins pulling out bigger and bigger snacks from unlikely places. Soon, the bag in your hands is heavy and laden with all kinds of things, ranging from chocolate bars to bags of chips to various flavors of small cakes.

You sneak a glance into his face, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. You tighten your jaw at his expression.

_Not yet._

“ _All of them._ ” Your tone is impatient now and whatever hope Murasakibara had been clinging on is fizzled out as he pulls out one tiny last candy and drops it.

_Ah. There it is._

His face is one of unadulterated desperation. Devastated, gone is the life in his eyes as he wistfully stares at the bag full of his belongings - full of the things that make his life worth living. In his mind he can already hear the funeral bells ringing, a choir singing for his deceased soul as he passes on to (hopefully) another place, where he can eat all the things he wants to.

He drags his eyes up to your face, the violet in them hollow and dull and the pout on his face so adorable, you almost reconsider your life choices and throw it all back at him, and murmurs, “(Name)-chin is such a meanie…”


End file.
